Authors: Joanne Schwehm
That got me thinking.
I’m probably going to need wine to get
me through tomorrow night. I should stop and pick up a bottle—no, a case
!
My taxi pulled up to The White Orchid, and there were a
decent amount of people entering. The club-goers were dressed to the nines. I
was thankful that I decided to take a cab so I could be dropped off in front of
the door. I wore my five-inch Jimmy Choo black pumps, and I felt wobbly just
because of my nerves. If I had to park and walk for God knows how many city
blocks, I probably would’ve fallen on my ass, broken an ankle, and ended up in
the emergency room. Come to think about it that may actually have been a better
alternative.
I paid the driver, exited the car, stood on the sidewalk, and stared
at the entrance. The door seemed as if it were screaming at me to run and run
fast.
What had I gotten myself into?
Still outside the club where there was a gently calming breeze
that washed over me and calmed my nerves, I looked at the list of questions I
wanted to ask the guys. I figured by the tenth guy I would have it down pat,
but I wanted to memorize them so I wouldn’t look too rehearsed. Julie and I
went over the list, and we thought it was okay. I thought I would ask these
questions: What do you like to do on dates? Do you like to travel? Do you like
sports? Are you close to your family? Have you ever been married? Did you go to
college? When was your last relationship and how long did it last? That last
one was important to me. If by chance I met someone who I wanted to get to know
better and he’d just gotten out of a long relationship, I didn’t want to be
involved. That could lead to nothing but bad drama. I didn’t need some psycho
ex-girlfriend, or worse an ex-wife, coming after me. I know that when I read a
romance novel there is always that twist, but that was one I didn’t want to
experience. I just wanted to experience the romance, love, tender kisses,
moonlight strolls, and the sound of his voice before I fell asleep. Yeah,
that’s what I wanted. I blocked everything out, closed my eyes, and could
almost picture it all.
I jumped as my phone vibrated. It was a text from Julie.
Julie: 6:55 p.m.—I saw you
get out of the cab over fifteen minutes ago! Get your ass in here! It is going
to start soon.
I felt embarrassed that I was standing on the sidewalk alone
staring into nothing.
God, I am such a loser, and I am worried about meeting
losers?
I laughed to myself at the irony. I straightened my skirt, adjusted
my top, took a deep breath, and made my way inside.
The club was gorgeous and looked very posh. It was different from
most of the clubs I had been to. The décor was comfortable and enticing at the
same time. There was a mild floral scent permeating the air. I couldn’t put my
finger on what flower it was. It was dimly lit, but I could see the small round
tables surrounded by cozy crushed-velvet chairs, which were silver and burgundy.
There were high-top tables with stools scattered around. The dance floor looked
like glass and was huge. It could easily accommodate over a hundred dancers,
and the DJ booth behind it was encased in glass. It was a really stunning
setup. I looked over at the bar made of dark wood. Its glass shelves were gently
lit and displayed bottles of top-shelf liquor. This definitely wasn’t your run
of the mill nightclub. It was perfect and opulent down to every detail, and all
the glass made you feel as if you were floating and could see through
everything. It was really pretty.
Julie saw me gawking at the club. She walked over to me, grabbed
my arm, and started dragging me next to her. “You look beautiful, Aubrey. Just
relax. Everything will be fine.” I smiled and took a deep breath. She handed me
a ticket and a name tag. Thankfully, last names weren’t on there. With my luck,
I’d meet a stalker or worse a murderer. I had a really bad feeling about the
guys who were going to be here.
Julie led me to a small room adjacent to the bar where the event
was going to be held. There were about twelve tables with two chairs at each of
them. Each table was covered in a crisp white linen tablecloth and decorated
with a single white orchid in a small vase. It dawned on me that that was the
scent I smelled—orchids. It was still early, so the rest of the club wasn’t
busy yet, but this little room was bustling with daters. I hurried and scoped
out those in attendance.
Julie’s boss, Brian, who was married, in his fifties, and had
salt and pepper colored hair, didn’t look as if he wanted to be there. He
gathered the group and told us the rules. “You get six minutes together. Make
them count. Write your date’s name on the scorecard. When you hear the first
bell, your date begins. You are not allowed to touch or ask for last names,
phone numbers, or addresses. I will ring the bell when your six minutes are up.
At that time, all gentlemen stand and move to the table to your right, and
ladies, stay where you are. You will have one minute to complete the required scorecards,
which are on your table. This will reoccur until the dating has concluded, at
which time you will hear the sound of two bells. At that time, you can move
about the room, and you will need to bring your scorecards to myself or my
colleague, Julie.” Julie gave a small wave so people would see who she was. She
was so damn cute. I couldn’t help but smile.
I stared at the scorecards as if they were laughing at me. I had
a thought that made my stomach turn.
What if no one gave me a good score or
rating? How embarrassing would that be?
I have to say the ladies in this
group were attractive and maybe slightly older than I was, but most twenty-five
year olds would be coming to the club later to hang out and have a good time,
not attending a Speed Dating event at seven in the evening.
Brian continued with the instructions. “We will review the
scorecards and introduce you to your best match for the evening. If there
aren’t any questions, we will begin.” No one said anything. “Ladies and
gentlemen, welcome to the Speed Dating event sponsored by Walker-Stone
Marketing at the beautiful White Orchid. I hope you find a match tonight.”
People began applauding; I joined in and felt like an ass. “Please take your
seats.”
Once we were all seated, Brian rang the bell.
Holy shit! Here we go, time for the crazy Speed Dating to begin. I
was starting to sweat . . . fantastic! I noticed that most of the guys were a
lot older than I was. Most of them were going bald or had gray hair, and I was
sure the wrinkles weren’t smile lines; they were full-blown I-am-old-enough-to-be-your-father
wrinkles. There was no way all these guys were under forty. Note to self: remind
me to kill Julie later. She had to have known this and most likely didn’t share
because she knew I’d prefer to be home on my comfy sofa rather than here. Fuck!
The first man who sat with me reminded me of my late Uncle
Charlie—not a great start. He liked going to movies on dates. He liked watching
horseracing, which I really never thought of as a sport, and when I mentioned
that, he started lecturing me on the mental awareness and muscular strength a
jockey needed. I just nodded and prayed for the sound of the bell. I continued
with my questions, and found out that he had never been married. He was about
to explain why when the bell rang. Thank God! He stood up to move to the next
table. That was when I noticed why he got so defensive about horse racing; he
had to be about five feet tall. He was probably a jockey. I almost started
laughing, but then another man sat down.
As the night wore on, I got pretty much the same answers to all my
questions from the guys, and it seemed as though the answers were exactly what
a girl wanted to hear: I haven’t been in a long relationship in quite some time.
I like to go out to dinner on my dates. I enjoy watching sports, as long as it’s
with my date. That one was such crap! I didn’t know any guy who wanted to do
that unless his date loved sports, and even then it was suspect. I was getting
a bit frustrated, since it was all starting to feel phony—not that I was
helping the situation with my fake smile—I responded with all crappy answers to
make sure I didn’t get paired up with anyone who I didn’t think would be a good
muse, which pretty much meant everyone. None of them sparked anything that
would make me want to know them, let alone write about them. This whole thing
was not going well. I wouldn’t have even filled out a scorecard if it wasn’t
mandatory for me to turn it in at the end of the night.
The bell rang twice, which meant it was over. Thank the good Lord!
That was the longest hour and a half of my entire life. I was just about to get
up when a shadow cast over my table. I was exhausted and didn’t want to go
through this torture anymore. I looked to my right, ready to tell whoever was
standing there that the bell had rung and to move on. However, I found myself staring
at a man’s waist, a very nice trim waist. My eyes continued upward, downward,
and back up again. Our eyes connected, and I couldn’t help staring, that is
until I lowered my eyes to his lips. Holy hell, he was gorgeous! He was tall,
about six foot two; his hair was cut short on the sides, but longer and wavy on
the top and styled perfectly. He had deep blue eyes, which almost looked navy,
a well-trimmed beard, not a full beard, but a little more than a five-o’clock
shadow. His body was teasingly god-like in his black fitted and most likely
custom-made suit. His cufflinks were platinum and were adorned with diamonds. He
definitely had money. He smiled at me, and I think I melted a little in my
chair.
Where the hell was this guy earlier tonight?
My heart raced as if
I’d just run the New York Marathon. I wondered if we’d run out of time and he
was supposed to be my last speed dater; that would be my totally my luck if
that were the case.
“Hello there. May I join you?” He said in a deep sexy made-for-radio
kind of voice.
Smiling and trying to continue breathing at a normal rate, I
motioned my right hand toward the empty chair at my table. “Please.” I sounded
so formal; although, I was surprised and not to mention happy that I could say
anything.
He had the sexiest smile I had ever seen, and his voice . . . It
had to be the hottest thing I had ever heard. I pictured him next to me naked,
touching me and kissing me. My eyes fluttered shut, and I think a moan may have
escaped my throat.
His voice broke my reverie. “Do you do this often, because you
don’t seem like the Speed Dating type? Not to mention, I think you are ten
years younger than every other woman here.” His eyes pierced mine. Could he see
through me? Was I still breathing? I wondered what the hell was going on with
me.
I cleared my throat, and my fingers started playing with the tablecloth.
Since my eyes were still grazing his suit-clad body, I noticed he wasn’t
wearing a name tag. “Actually, this is the first time I’ve done this and didn’t
realize there was a specific type that utilized Speed Dating. I notice you
aren’t wearing a name tag. Did you arrive too late to get one?” I was starting
to get nervous now. Who was this guy?
He laughed. “No, you’re right; I don’t have a name tag.” He
looked at mine, which was placed over my almost non-existent left breast. Thank
God for the padded bra I wore. “Aubrey.” He extended his right hand, and I met
his with mine. “I’m Alex Logan.” We shook hands, but it was more like a hold
than a shake, and I felt his touch all the way through me. I felt completely
and utterly captivated.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alex Logan. I’m Aubrey Ryan. Well, you
know I’m Aubrey. You just didn’t know the Ryan part. Well now you do because I
just told you. I mean . . .”
Oh my God, I sound like an idiot! Christ, get a
hold of yourself, Aubrey
“I don’t mean to be rude, but if you aren’t here
for the event, then why are you here?” I couldn’t wait to hear his answer.
“I own the club. I happened to be checking in with the bar staff
to make sure everything was in order for the evening. I knew this event was
going on, so I popped my head in and saw you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I
hope you don’t mind. I don’t want to keep you from these eligible men.” He was
looking around the room and had a shit-eating grin on his face. He knew there
was no one of interest to me there.
That was not the answer I expected. Yeah, I minded that this
gorgeous man took it upon himself to come over to me and wanted to sit down. “No,
not at all.”
Actually, this is the best conversation I’ve had all night.
He laughed. “Not many good conversationalists?”
Holy shit! Did I say that last part out loud?
I couldn’t
believe I’d said our conversation was the best of the night!
This is why I
am single!
Total brain-to-mouth malfunction!
I smiled and tried to play it off. “No, and my best friend is
going to kill me. I purposely tanked most of my answers because the guys were
all losers. I could tell their answers were all fabricated, and if they weren’t,
they should have been. I figure if they were going to lie to me in six minutes
what would they do during an entire real date?” I made sure to finger quote
“real.” “And the truthful ones just weren’t my type.”
“So these questions of yours. . . Hit me with them. Let’s see if
I’m your type.” Amused, Alex leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms in
front of his chest. And what a chest it was, not to mention his arms. I could have
stared at him for hours. The span of his back covered the entire chair; he was
a phenomenal specimen of a man.
“Okay.”
God, why am I so nervous?
“Are you ready?” I tried
my best to be as cool as Julie and prayed I could pull it off.
“Yup, hit me!”
I nervously laughed, squirmed, and shifted my ass in my chair. I
straightened my back to appear confident. Clearing my throat with a smile, I
asked, “What do you like to do on dates?”
He was just about to answer when Julie came over to get me,
apparently not realizing I was content where I was.